


Spoils of War

by kenporusty, ThornyHedge



Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Prisoner of War, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenporusty/pseuds/kenporusty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornyHedge/pseuds/ThornyHedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt from the LiveJournal Hobbit Kink Meme:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>While they're out in the wilderness, some of the cast and crew decide to engage in some light hearted war games. Armed with Nerf guns, they split up, set up lookouts, and draw out plans. Richard has other plans and sneaks off to capture an enemy to "interrogate."</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>We hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spoils of War

**Author's Note:**

> Richard Armitage written by kenporusty
> 
> Dean O'Gorman written by ThornyHedge
> 
> The rest of the cast was shared.
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own; wish we did.

Waitomo was simply beautiful, and chilly, thank heavens. Running around in full dwarf regalia and hair would have been unbearable otherwise. Still, when Peter announced that they all had a three hour break after eating their pre-packed lunches, out in the middle of nowhere, Graham suddenly got creative.

“Back when I was a boy, we used to play war games,” he announced to the cast. “We can split up into teams. It’ll be a blast.”

He was greeted by several groans and a handful of cheers.

“How do we divide up?” Aidan wondered, shoving the remains of his balled-up brown bag lunch into a plastic trash bag the group was passing around. 

“Easiest way is to just count off by twos. Ones are a team, and twos are the other,” Graham explained. “Then we have to find a way to distinguish one team from the other…”

“How about these?” Martin pulled a handful of red cloth strips from a properties bag. “One team wears red as an armband, and the other doesn’t.”

“And what’s the point of this game, exactly?” Adam wondered.

“To alleviate boredom, I’d imagine,” Ken said blandly. “Please don’t make us do a lot of running, Graham.”

“The goal is to have fun,” Graham said, as if it were obvious. We take our fake weapons, pretend to battle, capture the enemy. Just have fun,” he shrugged.

When they all just sat and stared at him, Graham finally pointed at Dean. “Start counting by twos. You first, Deano.”

“One?” the blond smiled, then took a chomp of his apple.

“Two!” Aidan followed. “Oh wait, now me and Fili can’t be on the same team!”

Jimmy shot Aidan a toothy grin, “Now that wouldn’t be fair, having the Durin boys on the same team. Who knows what you’d get up to? And, uh, one.”

Richard looked smugly over at Dean, crossing his arms over his chest. “Two, and don’t worry, Fili, I will keep your brother in line.” He resisted reaching over and pulling Aidan close.

The others counted off, ending in two teams of seven. Ken and John relented to the imploring looks of the younger actors and decided to join in, as long as they didn’t have to do much running. Martin handed everyone on his team (Aidan, Richard, Jed, Ken, Steven, and Peter) a red cloth strip. He snorted at the look Dean gave Aidan in regards to the cloth, knowing exactly what was going through their minds.

Adam frowned at his slingshot, and Graham gladly gave him one of Dwalin’s fake axes.  
“Right, Richard, so what’s the game plan?” Aidan asked Richard as Martin called his team into a huddle.

“What? I thought Martin was team captain, he should be the one planning.” Richard sounded surprised.

Martin screwed his face up in annoyance, “I didn’t know I was the unspoken leader of dwarves, oh Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Well, you did kind of take the lead there with the arm bands, oh burglar,” Jed pointed out, glancing over to where Graham had the others huddled around himself.

Richard knew Martin was laying out plans, pointing out ideal lookout points, and other such things, but he only half listened. His quarry wasn’t the base of the other team, his quarry was elsewhere on that side. He looked over and saw Graham had borrowed a can of spray paint from one of the crew, and was laying out a divide between them. Richard snorted.

“Anything funny, Armitage?” Martin snapped.

“Hmm? Oh, no, carry on,” Richard waved his hand at Martin.

The huddle broke and everyone lined up on either side of the dividing line.

“I had really hoped to spend the next two hours reading a book,” Dean lamented with a sigh.

“We’re bound to win, Dean,” Adam encouraged him. “We do have Graham on our side, after all.”

“How exactly do we _win_ again?” William wondered.

“It’s kind of an amorphous concept in this game… winning,” Graham began.

“Well, have fun with that,” Dean shook his head, smiling. “As soon as we begin, I’m going to find a nice tree limb and settle down with my book.”

“Are you all ready?” Graham asked around. “Those woods down there look like a great place to liven this up. Have fun, chaps… and be safe!”

Richard watched with a smirk as Dean groused about not being able to read. A man after his own heart.

Graham’s words signified the unofficial start to the game and the two teams broke up and scattered. Aidan took off with Jimmy chasing him down, Jed broke away to engage Adam in a play fight. And Richard stalked Dean as he casually strolled towards the tree line, looking bored with the whole thing. He heard the commotion of rowdy actors engaged in sparring, but ignored all of them, focused entirely on the blond’s retreat.

It was cooler in the shade, but there was no wind to chill him. Dean found the perfect spot, where a wide tree branch forked away from its trunk about three feet from the ground and hopped up, dropping his swords to the ground. He opened up his backpack and pulled out a tattered paperback book. Looking around, to be sure he was actually alone and away from Graham’s craziness, he opened the book to the page he’d bent down and began reading, backpack sliding from his lap and landing on the ground below.

Richard, for once, was glad for his experience in the woods while filming _Robin Hood,_ as it gave him the ability to walk quietly if he wished. He waited until Dean was engrossed his book before approaching, leaning heavily on the limb.

“Gotcha,” Richard growled, voice rougher than usual. He slid down the branch, bracing a hand on the trunk next to Dean’s head.

He tried to peer around and see what Dean was so intent on reading.

“Just not feeling the game, huh?”

“I must be the only person on the cast whose feet hurt,” Dean frowned. “It’s the lifts in these boots, I think. I actually look forward to breaks.” He noticed Richard’s red arm band. “How seriously are _you_ taking this game?” he wondered, forehead creased.

“During dwarf camp, just after they gave us these things,” Richard tapped the tree with the toe of his boot, “my feet would not stop hurting. I’ve gotten used to it now, but then again, I don’t have to compensate for height,” he smirked.

Richard looked down at the armband and shrugged, “Not as seriously as the rest of them, apparently. I’m after a different sort of game with a different prey entirely.”

Richard placed his other hand on the branch near Dean’s leg, lifting an eyebrow at Dean as he caught his eye.

“Um,” Dean swallowed thickly, “are you hoping to capture a little kiwi bird or something? Because they tend to be found near the beaches.”

Richard hoped he was being subtle watching Dean’s throat as he swallowed. He laughed softly, “I’ve heard that, but I’ve also heard that there’s one variety that loves sitting in the crooks of trees. Heard of that variety at all?”

Dean met his gaze. “The only creature sitting in the crook of a tree is… me,” he surmised, raising one eyebrow. “You’re not seriously going to… are you?” he began, but before he could finish the question, he leapt from the branch away from Richard, tripping spectacularly over his swords and landing on his back on the loam at its base. “Well, shit,” he muttered.

Richard chuckled and extended a hand to help Dean to his feet. Dean eyed him dubiously, but accepted the proffered hand. As soon as he was upright, Richard moved quickly, pinning Dean against the trunk. Richard fumbled for Dean’s wrists, grabbing them and pinning them above Dean’s head.

“Looks like I’ve caught you now,” Richard grinned.

“You are a piece of work, Rich,” Dean panted, spitting a few errant long blond hairs out of his mouth. “Lulling me into a false sense of security like that. I should have known. You _did_ play a soldier once, didn’t you?”

Richard smirked at his quarry, “I’ve played a soldier a few times, yes, and hopefully I’m a good piece of work.”

He shifted, slotting his thigh between Dean’s, pressing in closer. He ducked down, biting softly just below Dean’s ear.

Dean wanted to put up just a smidge of token resistance, but the unexpected contact from Richard’s hot mouth in such a sensitive spot made him weak in the knees. “Oh, man,” he groaned. “I do _not_ think Graham did this as a boy.”

Richard growled in his chest, “No, I think not. I don’t think he wanted his game to end like this. I should be dragging you back to the others,” he punctuated his words with kisses along the column of Dean’s neck. “Instead how about I drag you further into the woods so we’re not disturbed?” Richard dropped Dean’s wrists, instead wrapping one arm around his waist, pulling Dean tight to his body.

“I--,” this would have been the point in the exchange where Dean should have let good sense prevail. Instead, he let his baser instincts take over. “Yeah,” he agreed, grabbing a handful of Richard’s hair and pulling him in for a kiss. “Deeper in sounds good.”

Richard hissed as Dean grabbed his hair, grinding his hips forward against the smaller man. “Fucking right ‘deeper in sounds good.’” Those four words shot fire to Richard’s groin.

He ran his tongue along Dean’s lip, sucking it into his mouth and biting down, and released Dean, keeping a hand on his waist. He guided Dean into the forest undergrowth, noting the fading sounds of grown men running around like children. He leaned in, kissing and nipping along Dean’s neck as they walked.

“You tell me when we should stop,” he purred.

“I don’t want to stop any time soon,” Dean countered, halting when they reached a quiet alcove. “But here seems like a good spot to begin.” He turned on Richard, sliding a naughty hand down to cup his erection. “Oooh.”

“Looks perfect,” Richard rumbled, breath catching at Dean’s touch. “You are such a bad boy,” Richard bit Dean’s neck, sucking a light mark, rolling his hips into Dean’s hand, desperate for the friction.

His own hand palmed at Dean’s hard cock.

“So, the thought of being marched off and fucked senseless in the woods by an older man gets you, eh?” He chuckled.

“No,” Dean corrected him. “But the thought of being dragged off and fucked by _you_ certainly gets me,” he smiled, scratching at the underside of Richard’s beard. “You’re not _that_ much older, after all.”

He reached for Richard’s belt and released the clasp. It jangled to the moss beneath them.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” Richard growled, fumbling with Dean’s belt, letting it drop, and pushing the outer jacket over Dean’s shoulders and off completely. “Whomever thought of so many layers can go fuck themselves,” he growled.

One hand came up and cupped Dean’s cheek as he pressed a desperate kiss to his lips, the other threaded into the back of Dean’s hair, digging his nails against the back of his neck, pulling him closer, walking him back to press against the rocky wall of the alcove.

The drawstring on Richard’s trousers presented little challenge to Dean’s eager fingers. “God, Rich,” he panted into the other man’s mouth. “What do you like? What do you want?” He was poised to shimmy up Richard like a tree.

Richard rolled his hips against Dean’s.

“Fuck, Dean, I wanna fuck you,” Richard murmured into Dean’s mouth. His hands made quick work of Dean’s own trousers, fingers running along the hard flesh hidden beneath his underwear. “Let me fuck you. Hard. Right here.”

He broke from Dean’s lips to bite down on Dean’s neck to accent his words.

Dean gasped at the revelation, and nodded. “Yeah. God, _yeah,_ ” he murmured his assent, inclining his head and exposing more of his neck to Richard. He kicked out of his detested boots and shivered against the Brit, wearing only Fili’s shirt against the chill. He wrapped one leg around the back of Richard’s thighs to pull him ever closer.

Richard took advantage of Dean’s exposed neck, and bit down hard, holding the shorter man to his chest.

“You got anything on you, or will I have to fuck you raw?” Richard growled into Dean’s neck, hand stroking Dean’s cock slowly.

“I have some Chapstick,” Dean offered, shrugging helplessly. “Will that work?”

Richard laughed roughly, “not unless you want a shiny asshole. Spit it is.”

“I don’t mind if it hurts a little,” Dean confided sheepishly.

Richard slipped his hand lower, rolling Dean’s balls before rubbing his finger against Dean’s tight muscle, licking against the hollow of Dean’s neck.

“How badly do you want it?”

“More than I ever imagined possible,” Dean growled. “At least, more than I imagined possible an hour ago. I still can’t believe we’re doing this, Richard.”

“Believe it, love,” Richard chuckled, offering the fingers of his free hand to Dean, holding them against his lips.

Dean nodded solemnly and parted his lips, allowing the digits entry. Moaning at the sensation of fullness, he laved them with his tongue, eyes closed. Already he was imagining how they were going to feel stuffed up his arse.

Richard moaned as Dean’s tongue worked, twitching his hips forward, pressing his erection against Dean’s belly. He pulled his fingers out, replacing them with his mouth, catching Dean in a bruising kiss as his wet finger trailed languidly along the crack of Dean’s ass, pressing in gently every time he passed his sphincter.

With a smooth motion, he pushed his finger deep inside Dean, moaning at the tight heat.

“If you need more saliva, I can always … gah!” he gasped at the sudden invasion, even though he’d been expecting it. “You have... incredible... hands...” he panted, laying his head back against the rock wall behind him and grinding down onto the finger impaling him.

“I’ve been told that before,” Richard said huskily into Dean’s ear, adding a second finger, scissoring gently as he worked his fingers in and out.

“Mmm, god,” the blond’s body juddered as Richard twisted his hand skillfully and nailed his pleasure center. “Do that again, Thorin.” When he realized what he’d just said, he clasped a hand over his mouth. “Oh... shit. I mean, Richard,” he chuckled.

Richard purred, “Mmm you like that, nephew?”

He crooked his fingers and found Dean’s prostate again, rubbing the nub of the gland, treasuring every sound and expression Dean made. Pre-come leaked from his painfully hard cock, smearing in the hair dusting Dean’s stomach.

“I-I swear,” Dean mewled, “didn’t mean it. Want _you,_ Rich. Thorin can wait his turn,” he insisted, looking down to admire the lovely organ Richard had unveiled. It was only a matter of time before he’d be writhing on it. The thought made his hips stutter uncontrollably. “How do you want me?” he asked breathlessly.

“I know what you meant,” Richard growled softly, not entirely his own voice. Thorin had somehow crept in. 

He stepped back, pulled his fingers free, and grabbed Dean’s head, pushing him to his knees.

“Since you seem to enjoy looking at my cock, then why don’t you put that pretty mouth to good use? Help me prepare for fucking you.”

Dean swallowed audibly. “I was hoping you might say that,” and dropped languidly to his knees. He caressed Richard’s hips with both hands, taking in the view for a few moments before slipping the velvety head between his lips.

Richard tipped his head back and moaned lowly, resisting the urge to buck his hips. He kept one hand in Dean’s hair, throwing the other out for support behind him.

“Fuck, Dean, your mouth. I’ve waited for this for so long.”

Dean pulled off with a slurp and looked up at him expectantly. “How long?” he wondered, caressing Richard’s balls gently with one hand. 

“Since,” Richard’s voice caught in his throat at Dean’s touch, “fuck. Since the day you walked on set with those pretty lips and that swagger. I’ve been very jealous of you and Aidan, my little lion.”

“Me and Aidan?” Dean knitted his brow. “You think... me and him?” he snickered. “No, Richard. No way. He’s like a kid brother to me... really. I have not been able to keep my eyes off you since we met either,” he confided. “Since that very first day I came in to read for the part. On the drive home all I could think about was your beautiful eyes... and your hands,” he stroked Richard’s cock, cupping his ass with the other hand. “Wanted you from the the start.”

“I guessed there was nothing more. You two were just so close. I wanted to be the one to keep your attention,” his rambling was cut short with a deep growl. “If you keep that up, I will come too early and leave nothing for you.”

Richard’s revelation surprised Dean. Never in a million years had he imagined that this … this hunk, for lack of a better word, could possibly reciprocate his lust. “That won’t do,” he told the Brit. “I want you inside me. And I want you to come there.” He sank down onto his ass, then eased onto his back, pulling Richard down on top of him. “Like this? Or do you want me to roll over?”

Richard followed Dean down, nudging his thighs open, settling between them, leaning over to press a rough kiss to his lips.

“That’s perfect, I want to see your face as I fuck you,” he said softly into Dean’s ear, licking the shell and biting his earlobe. “I want to see your face as I make you come with my name on your lips.”

Dean nodded, parting his thighs and allowing Richard to move between them. “Try now,” he caressed Richard’s long hair, “before someone discovers us out here naked.”

Richard hummed as he lined himself up with Dean and pressed in slowly, “would that really be a bad thing?” His voice dropped a register, picking up a husky burr. “Just think of it, anyone could catch us out here.”

Dean wasn’t sure how to answer. He really wanted his first time with Richard to be private and personal, but he also wanted the world to know he was about to have sex with Richard-fucking-Armitage. “I’d prefer to be caught in the afterglow than in the act,” he offered, wrapping one leg around Richard’s waist.

Richard groaned at Dean’s leg, burying himself to the hilt, shifting his hips slightly to adjust, chewing on his lip as he tried not to come prematurely from just how _tight_ Dean was. He braced himself, hands framing Dean’s head, and looped Dean’s other leg over his shoulder, thrusting with a slow rhythm.

“I do see your point there, Dean,” he leaned over to kiss him softly.

Dean grunted and tried to relax as he got used to Richard’s girth. Clearly Richard had done this before, as he took his time, distracting Dean with his mouth and hands as the blond adjusted to being so full. “Find that spot again,” Dean begged into Richard’s mouth, nibbling on his lower lip.

Richard moved slowly at first, speeding his rhythm, panting in time with his thrusts, angling his hips to brush against Dean’s prostate with each stroke. He groaned with the assault on his senses caused by Dean’s tight warmth.

“Right there?” He murmured, catching Dean’s lips.

His answer came with a clenching of hands and a curling of toes. “Yes,” Dean groaned. “There. God, don’t stop, Rich,” he pulled the brunet’s torso tight against his own, blanketing his body with him.

Richard quickened his pace, revelling in the sound of skin on skin, the breathing of the man below him, and the certain thrill of the possibility of being caught fucking his co-star into leaf litter below them. His lips found Dean’s, biting and licking them, making a trail of small nips along his jaw and down his throat.

“Gonna come, Rich,” Dean felt the need to announce, nails digging into his shoulders. “Are you close?”

Richard purred into Dean’s ear, “So fucking close for you, Dean.”

He ran his nails down Dean’s chest, taking his cock in hand, stroking haphazardly with the faltering rhythm of his hips, losing control as his release pooled in his belly.

“Come for me, Dean, I want to hear you come.”

Dean dug his heels into Richard’s back and his body grew taut. “Richard,” he groaned. “Oh... god....” he buried his face in the brunet’s strong neck to muffle his passionate cries. 

“That’s it,” Richard muttered into Dean’s hair, catching his lips and swallowing his cries. “Let go, come for me. Let everyone know you are mine.”

Richard growled the last part, latching onto the hollow of Dean’s neck, sucking a purpling bruise as he crept closer to his own orgasm.

Dean’s internal muscles fluttered deliciously, encouraging Richard toward the brink. “So beautiful,” he told him. “So _hot._ ”

Richard’s hips stuttered and faltered as Dean clenched around him, he slowed to deep strokes, burying himself deeply each time, determined not to come before Dean did.

“You are so gorgeous. My little golden treasure,” Richard mumbled inanely, lost at the precipice of his orgasm.

A sucker for Richard’s baritone voice, Dean found those words to be just the push he needed. He came with a shout, as if his orgasm surprised him, and muffled it on Richard’s shoulder as he bucked up into him, muscles bearing down on Richard’s cock.

Dean’s orgasm served to send Richard over the edge, growling deeply as he came inside his lover. He stroked Dean through his aftershocks, peppering his face with soft kisses.

“Oh god,” he slumped forward, panting hard, leaning his forehead against Dean’s shoulder. “Oh fuck, thank you, Dean,” he licked at the mark he left earlier.

Dean welcomed Richard’s weight on his chest; the way their hair intertwined. He stroked his sweat-slick back as their breathing grew more regular. Finally, Dean spoke.

“Did you mean what you just said? About letting everyone know that I was yours? Or was that just the heat of passion talking?” Dean lifted a curtain of dark hair away from Richard’s face to gauge his response. “I’m not asking to put pressure on you. I’m just... curious.”

Richard blushed slightly and smiled softly, pushing an errant strand from Dean’s face. “I meant every word of it, Dean. I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now.”

“Ask me... what?” Dean’s eyes were half-lidded.

“Would,” Richard’s voice caught slightly. He swallowed and bit his lip, feeling every bit like a stupid teenager. A stupid teenager who just fucked the sexiest man on set, but a stupid teenager nonetheless. “Would you be mine? My boyfriend?”

“Aren’t we a bit too old to be boyfriends?” Dean smiled. “But I would fancy a proper attempt at courtship. Wine, dinner, flirtation... what do you say?”

Richard smiled, “I guess we are. Partners, then, and I think I can do the courtship, how about dinner once we’re done filming out here?”

He pulled free of Dean and sat back, pulling the blond into his lap. He couldn’t keep a stupid smile off his face.

“I like it here,” Dean decided. “I like it here far too much.” Then he sat up abruptly. “Blast! What time is it?”

“Well then, you’re welcome to stay right here,” Richard pressed a soft kiss to Dean’s forehead. “Uh, I’m not sure, I left my watch. Fuck. It can’t be that late, can it?”

Dean could only shrug. “I don’t _think_ so,” he chuckled softly. “But we should put on some pretense of embracing Graham’s war game.” He ran his fingers through the Thorin wig, attempting to untangle it. “Thorin looks debauched. No way around it.”

Richard laughed, “I suppose we should. Though you know Martin is going to give us such shit for this.” He plucked a leaf from Fili’s wig, “It looks like my nephew had quite an adventure _not_ reading his book.”

Richard stood, searching for his trousers to pull on, then helped Dean stand.

“You going to be able to walk straight?” he raised an eyebrow at Dean.

“Ah, well,” Dean shrugged. “It’s one of of the bonuses of having these ridiculous lifts in my boots. Walking like a cowboy. I am feeling rather bow legged right now, though... partner.” He grinned.

Richard blushed, laughed, and threw an arm over Dean’s shoulder, kissing his cheek, “I think I can come to like that word.”

He eyeballed the purple mark. “Make up-will kill us.”

He threw Dean Fili’s pants and tossed his head towards the distant sound of the others.

“Hurry up, Hopalong.”

Dean wasn’t feeling especially graceful, and the sound of approaching voices made the yanking, tying and buckling even more challenging. Thirty seconds later, when Martin and Aidan strode in the clearing, they’d both just managed to get their coats on.

But it was pretty obvious what they’d been up to.

“Uh, hi,” Dean offered lamely to the pair. 

Aidan chuckled. “So.... how’s it going?” he raised his eyebrows at Dean as if to say _Oh my god, you two totally just had sex!_

Dean shrugged, as if to say _Yeah, we totally did._

Richard just smirked and put his hand on the small of Dean’s back.

“Hey Martin, look who I caught.” He laughed once, pushing Dean forward.

”So should we tell them?” he whispered as Dean passed.

Dean sighed, and addressed Aidan and Martin. “He is taking this game _way_ too seriously. We did the whole ‘prisoner of war’ thing.”

“And did this whole ‘prisoner of war’ thing include a cavity search?” Aidan grinned toothily.

Richard choked on a laugh, dropping his head, to lean his forehead against the top of Dean’s head.

“It might have. Now, I think we should get going, yes? Can’t film without the majestic Durins and our little burglar.”

Dean barely had time to straighten his costume and pick up his discarded backpack and swords before Aidan grabbed his arm and started pulling him back towards set. “He is totally _my_ prisoner,” he told the two older men. He leaned in to whisper to Dean, “And you are totally telling me all about this tonight!”

Richard cocked an eyebrow at Martin and strode off to where the others gathered, dislodging Dean from Aidan, twining their fingers together briefly.

“You all right with this?”

“I am _very_ all right with this,” Dean locked eyes with Richard. “I believe I misjudged this whole war games idea. Graham is a genius.”

Richard growled low in his chest, “I’m certainly enjoying _my_ spoils of war.” He gave Dean a wink and squeezed his ass gently before walking away to take his mark.


End file.
